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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27417643">Wake Up (Your Sleeping Heart)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears'>Ladderofyears</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Draco is sleeping), 5+1 Things, Accidental Voyeurism, Auror Partners, Auror Trainee Draco Malfoy, Auror Trainee Harry Potter, Auror Training, Background Case, Based on a The Vamps Song, Brief dub-con kiss, Brief mention of Erection, Diffindo, Draco is Flirtatious, Draco puts Harry to bed, Drunken Confessions, Engagement, Established Relationship, Flirty Language, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Harry is Attracted, Harry/Draco Owlpost Fest 2020, Injury Recovery, M/M, Nipple Play, Not Actually Unrequited Love, OC Victim - Freeform, Passage of time, Pining Harry, Post Mpreg, Sleepy Draco, Songfic, Spell Injury, Squabbling, confession of love, oc murder, sleepy baby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:14:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27417643</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times that Harry woke Draco up, and the one time that Harry let him sleep.</p><p>A relationship, told in six parts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>197</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Harry/Draco Owlpost 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wake Up (Your Sleeping Heart)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_cissa/gifts">sassy_cissa</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dear sassy_cissa. </p><p>I am in awe of you. You work so hard for the Harry Potter fandom and you have been nothing but kind and patient with me during our every interaction this year. It was a pleasure to write this fic for you and I do hope you enjoy it. </p><p>I also very much hope that both you, and all of your loved ones have a lovely festive season and a safe and prosperous new year. </p><p>This is a songfic, based on the 2015 song <em>Wake Up, </em> by The Vamps, specifically the line: <em>I was always in front of you. </em></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>You've been deep in a coma</strong><br/>
<strong>But I stood right here</strong><br/>
<strong>When you thought there was no one</strong><br/>
<strong>I was still right here </strong>
</p>
<h3>One.</h3><p>
  <strong></strong></p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <strong>Auror Trainees.</strong>
  </p>
</div><p>It was only five-forty am and Harry was already feeling pissed off. </p><p>He still couldn’t understand why he had been paired with Malfoy. Robards seemed to think it’d be the making of him but, honestly, Harry couldn’t understand how much more character building he actually required. He was quite happy with the person that he was and having that pointy-faced git as his Auror Initiate partner was the fly in the potion that he simply didn’t want or need. </p><p>Harry cast an irritated glance down at his watch. Time was ticking on.</p><p>If the pair of them weren't there – both fully suited and booted – at six precisely then they’d both be up for punishment drills. Harry grit his teeth at the idea and felt the last of his patience leave him. He decided to go and wake up the sleeping git himself. If only he could have been paired with Ron! No doubt Malfoy was still fast asleep on his expensive silk pillow, dreaming about all the hundreds of different ways he could make Harry’s life more difficult than it already was. </p><p>Five forty-five found Harry hammering on Malfoy’s door.</p><p>“Wake up,” he snarled, hitting the door hard enough to make his hand sting. “We’ve got Defensive casting training – <em>Oppugno</em> and <em>Levicorpus</em> over in the Quadrangle – Look, are you even up?” Harry hammered again, not caring about the pain. “We aren’t all lazy, slovenly prats here because of Daddy’s Galleons! Some of us want to do well – make something of ourselves! Get up or I'll hex your door off.”</p><p>Harry’s annoyance filled his belly like a herd of angry Hippogriffs and he gripped his wand with white knuckled fingers. It wasn’t an empty threat. </p><p>Part of him thought about marching down to to Robards’s office and demanding a new partner. Circe, but he had the Order of Merlin! He’d literally died saving the wizarding world! Couldn’t they cut him even the smallest bit of slack? Malfoy’s negligent laziness really ought be someone else’s problem. </p><p>The hex was almost on his lips when he heard the muffled sound of the blond’s posh, blue-blooded voice groaning just a little and so Harry paused. He could almost picture Malfoy’s face on the pillow; those grey eyes of his cloudy, and hooded with sleep. Harry expected that the wizard had found some tricky, Slytherin way to circumvent the scratchy blankets and hard mattresses that the rest them were forced to endure. The louche idiot probably wore silk, monogrammed pyjamas… </p><p>Harry shook his head. He had no idea whatsoever why that thought had popped into his brain! What Draco wore next to his skin wasn’t any of his business and never, ever would be. Harry had no time for boyfriends and the nonsense they brought with them. In his limited experience all men ever seemed to want was the Saviour and Harry knew that he never measured up to the fictional hero that <em>The Prophet</em> had created </p><p>“Training in fifteen,” Harry said, his tone a little softer. “Can you just be on time, Malfoy? That’s all I ask. I don’t want another punishment drill like last time.” </p><p>There was a small sniff from the other side of the door and Harry left then, positive that his partner was awake. </p><p>Harry walked over to the Quadrangle and spend the next two minutes warming up. Ron was already there, as well as his partner Millicent, and they greeted Harry cheerfully. The three of them parried, casting basic spells and successfully nullifying them without too much trouble. Bulstrode and Ron  made a good team, Harry thought, admiring their quick banter and the way they could communicate with just a glance. Millie cast a tricky Jelly-Legs’s Jinx and Harry was quick to counter it with a <em>Protego</em>. He only wished that Malfoy had been by his side to see how defensive magic was supposed to be cast. </p><p>Five fifty-five arrived and Malfoy was still conspicuous in his absence. Harry shoved his wand down deep into his pocket and made his apologies to his friends. </p><p>He sprinted off in the direction of the Initiate's dormitories, hoping that he’d run into Draco on the way. It didn’t happen. He arrived at Malfoy’s door at precisely five-fifty three, all semblance of his good humour vanishing like a charm.</p><p>“You’re coming now!” Harry shouted, hammering on the door once more. “You contemptible, lazy arse! Don’t make me come in there!”</p><p>Malfoy’s silence was the straw that broke the dragon’s back. With a quick flick of his wand Harry vanished the door handle with a glowing sparkle of green magic. Harry marched into the room in one fluid motion, full of righteous indignation and ready anger, to only to find Malfoy nearly nude. </p><p>Harry took in the sight without fully meaning too. He was immediately filled with utter self disgust at his rash action. Draco was all lithe, well defined muscle and glowing, shower-fresh skin. The scarring on his chest was pink and faded and the only flaw that Harry could see was Draco’s Dark Mark that stood out prominently against the pale skin of his forearm. There were still a couple of droplets from his shower patterning Malfoy’s shoulders and they seemed to glisten in the sun’s morning rays.  </p><p>“Merlin’s balls, Potter!” Draco shouted clutching a fluffy white towel that was knotted low on his hips. “Did you bloody Lions never practice privacy up in your Tower?”</p><p>Harry dived out of the open door like Aragon himself was after him. He truly couldn’t believe that he had done anything so unbelievably rude. He leant his back against the wall and tried to will his racing pulse back to reasonably safe perimeters. His stomach was in knots and Malfoy’s nearly-naked form had stuck itself, as if by magic, to the inside of Harry’s brain. It was quite the unfortunate turn of events.</p><p>“Malfoy,” he managed, speaking through the crack of the door, the words sticking in his throat like a bezoar, “just see me down there, yeah? I’ll wait for you with the rest of the Initiates.”</p><p>Much to Harry’s immense chagrin, Malfoy wasn’t even a second late. The blond haired wizard Apparated into place, dressed in full uniform at six precisely, looking as precise, and as polished, as a wizard with a dozen Elf-butlers at his beck and call. </p><p>“Jolly good show,” Robards said, nodding at Malfoy’s polished boots. “The rest of you lollygaggers could stand to learn a little from Mr. Malfoy here. When you wear the scarlet uniform you represent the Department of Magical Law Enforcement! You <em>are</em> the department, Initiates! I’d like to see you all acting like that fact matters even a Sickle to you!” </p><p>Harry’s face had burned the same scarlet as his coat at Robards’s pronouncement. Draco and he sparred for a while throwing hexes and spells, and working up quite a sweat. The other wizard was good with his defensive magic and kept Harry on his toes. Draco – the gorgeous, ferret-brained snarky <em>bugger</em> – acted nonchalantly. Indeed, Harry’s rather rash mistake that morning might not even have happened.</p><p>Well. Not entirely. </p><p>“You know, Potter,” Draco murmured, his face wholly innocent, as Harry checked over his wand for any weaknesses, cracks or fissures, “it’s been a little while since a man was so keen on seeing me nude that he burst in through my door. Next time – if you’re so inclined – just ask me. You never know. I might even say yes.”</p><p>
  <strong>You were scared, but I told ya</strong><br/>
<strong>Open up your eyes</strong><br/>
<strong>Never stopped being someone who could love you well </strong>
</p>
<h3>Two.</h3><p>
  <strong></strong></p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <strong>Late evening at Grimmauld Place. </strong>
  </p>
</div><p>It was long past midnight. Harry was exhausted. His eyes were sore and the words swam on the pages, but the Auror couldn't bring himself to care. He was determined to break the Abby Richardson murders – a late night <em>Avada Kedavra</em> by person or persons unknown – and he knew that the only way to smash it open was old fashioned legwork. The answer to the identity of their killer was hidden in the file, somewhere; Harry was sure of that much at least. </p><p>Their killer’s name was on the tip of his tongue. It was on the periphery of his vision. It was so close that Harry could taste it. Names and dates mixed together on the parchment and Harry brought his <em>Lumosed</em> wand a little closer to the text. He yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.  </p><p>Draco – Harry’s Auror partner of three years – lay close by, his long, angular body bent uncomfortably on the far-too-short settee. He was deeply asleep, his only movement the rapid eye movement beneath his lids. Harry let his eyes drift over the scene before him, taking just a moment away from the case. He ought to have extended the couch for Draco’s comfort, or at least <em>Accio’ed</em> him a blanket. </p><p>His partner would be cold and grumpy when he awoke, mortified that he had fallen asleep while Harry had ploughed on with their work. Harry sighed with frustration. It wasn’t his partner’s fault that he got as tired as he often did. </p><p>Simply put, Draco struggled to function well without several more hours of sleep than Harry tended to need. His childhood with the Dursleys and their incessant, harping commands had meant that rest was rare and hard to come by. They’d always been quick to pull him from his sleep for even the most trivial request. By the time Harry was eleven and suddenly a person of magical ability sleep had become a precious commodity. </p><p>His teenage years fighting Voldemort were a miasma of anxiety and stress, so much so that a good night’s kip became rarer than pygmy puff’s teeth. Habits like his were hard to break without Dreamless Sleep, but Harry wasn’t about to get himself hooked on potions. </p><p>Draco though? Draco was a wizard that enjoyed sleeping. </p><p>His youthful years sleeping in his vast Manor bed had rendered him pretty useless after the strike of eleven o’clock in the evening. A half-drank cup of coffee was sat on the table at his side and there were the remnants of several different eyewitness interviews scattered all across the floor. His tee-shirt was a soft sky-blue and his tracksuit bottoms were cut close to his body, looking tight and sleek in a way that Harry’s never did, even when they were brought new from the shop. </p><p>Draco’s hair had been charmed tidy when he had fallen asleep but two hours in dreamland had rendered it mussy and touchably soft. Wayward wisps of white-blond hair framed his partner’s serene, dozing face. As Harry watched, Draco turned onto his side, a small shadow of consternation crossing his expression. His long lashes cast shadows across his face as he slept on in the wandlight, his full lips nearly – but not <em>quite</em> – smiling. It was an alluring sight. Harry knew that he should get back to his parchments – back to the squalor and gore of their case – but there was a part of him that couldn’t draw his eyes away. </p><p>They’d enjoyed a brief flirtation back at the Academy, enjoyed a couple of brief kisses at the back of the Quadrangle and a couple of even briefer hand-jobs in the shower cubicles. </p><p>Harry had been wildly, madly attracted to the man but their love affair hadn't lasted. Draco had soon shut Harry down though and kicked him to the curb. His reputation – the Dark Mark still emblazoned onto his arm – everything about Draco was still so brittle. Draco had wanted to be more than just the aristocratic stereotype of his Malfoy name. Harry supposed that he would have craved much the same, had their histories been reversed. The blond had wanted to put his career first, wanted to make a life of his own that wasn’t defined by his wartime history and in that Harry hadn’t been able to blame him. He'd had to let Draco go.</p><p>Harry let out a long breath, one that he hadn’t really known he was holding. Those years at the Academy felt like another lifetime ago, yet there hadn’t ever been anyone else in his life since then. There’d been a few boyfriends, a few awkward dates set up by Ginny and Luna, but there hadn’t been a single wizard that had lit his flame the way Draco had in those brief few weeks where they had been lovers. </p><p>Draco would be utterly ill-tempered tomorrow, of course. That was par of the course whenever he hadn’t slept properly in a bed and Harry knew that he’d get the brunt of it. That was par of the course in a partnership like theirs. The wizard would spend the whole of the day grumbling about the matched pair of cricks in his neck and back and Harry knew there wouldn’t be a curative potion in the world that would cure his grumpy mutterings. That simply wouldn’t do. </p><p>There was nothing for it: Harry couldn’t let Draco spend the rest of the night on the settee. </p><p>First, Harry gathered up all of the interview parchments with a neat little tidying and filing spell. That only took a minute and then Harry slid his arms under Draco’s knees and shoulders and lifted him up. With the help of a wandless lightening spell the other wizard was relatively easy to manoeuvre, even though the man still seemed like a collection of long legs and right-angles in his arms. </p><p>The two of them had scarcely made it out of the lounge door when Draco awoke, disorientated and confused by the abrupt, sudden movement.</p><p>Harry looked down at Draco and didn’t think that the other man was even entirely awake. Draco made a small purr of a noise from the back of his throat and Harry saw Draco’s eyelids flutter open against his skin. Draco nuzzled into the crook of his neck and Harry thought that his partner looked innocent and trusting as they made their slow procession up the stairs of Grimmauld Place. </p><p>“Don’t worry,” Harry half-whispered into Draco’s skin. “You’re safe, Draco. You’re with me. Please, go back to sleep.”</p><p>Draco did. His unseeing eyes rolled back and shuttered slowly closed. </p><p>“’kay,” Draco whispered</p><p>Harry, without even really realising what he was doing, brushed the softest of kisses against Draco’s hair. He paused immediately, paralysed in shock by what he had done. </p><p>The kiss had been a completely unconscious action and Harry was sure that Draco would have been livid had he have known. Draco didn’t seem to realise though. His head lolled back against Harry’s chest with a small snore and Harry thought that his partner wasn’t cognisant of his stolen kiss. Draco didn’t wake again, not even when Harry tucked him under the quilt in the spare blue bedroom. </p><p>Harry closed the bedroom door behind him with a small click, pondering whether or not to abandon his case-notes for the evening. He wondered whether Draco would mention his night-time faux pas the following day, already knowing that he certainly wouldn’t be doing so. It would only embarrass Draco, making him defensive and short-tempered. </p><p>Some things, Harry knew, were better swept into the cauldron and forgotten about. Standing outside of his own bedroom, Harry put his hand on the brass handle. He hesitated. It’d be better if he carried on examining their case-notes. </p><p>If he went to bed he’d only spend the night staring at the ceiling, his mind wholly aware of Draco – so very close – and yet so very far away. </p><p>
  <strong>Had to show you the hard way</strong><br/>
<strong>Only time will tell</strong><br/>
<strong>Revelations and heartaches make you realize </strong>
</p>
<h3>Three.</h3><p>
  <strong></strong></p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <strong>Rehabilitation at Malfoy Manor.</strong>
  </p>
</div><p>Harry’s mission to take down Jean-Claude Berger – cold-blooded murderer of Abby Richardson and several others too – had been a complete and utter bloody disaster. </p><p>The rain had fallen in sheets on the day of the raid. Harry had cast an Umbrella Charm but it hadn’t taken properly. There were some odd, tangled wards on Berger’s Soho hideout that were affecting his team’s magic. The Cursebreaking team hadn’t been to cut through them all and Harry hadn’t felt comfortable about that situation at all. They had felt vulnerable –  felt <em>compromised</em> – and the tense knot of anxiety in his belly had slowly tightened. </p><p>All of his experience was telling him that this raid was going to end badly.</p><p>The rest of the Auror Mission Team had waited tensely for his signal while the rain had ran in rivulets through his tangle of hair and down his throat, soaking his shirt through to his skin</p><p>Harry hadn’t even wanted to cast a drying charm, afraid that the unfamiliar magic would somehow give away their position. Ron, Millicent, Draco and he would only have the element of surprise for a matter of moments and the team needed to take full advantage of it while they did. Berger had already proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t scared to cast an Unforgivable and there was something about the isolated, derelict squat just felt <em>off</em> to Harry in a way he couldn’t put his wand on. </p><p>He had shared his worries with the rest of the team but Draco had been to quick shoot down his concerns.</p><p>“We’ve got Berger here <em>now</em>,” the blond had argued. “Away from any civilians that might get hit by a hastily thrown hex. We call off the raid and we run the risk of losing him. We strike now, while the cauldron is hot.” </p><p>Millie and Ron had taken the back while Draco and he had taken the front door. Their <em>Alohomora</em> spell had hardly had the time to take the before their whole Mission went south faster than a Goblin down a vault. </p><p>Just like Harry had feared, Berger wasn’t alone.</p><p>He, and a bunch of his syndicate were there, strung out on Muggle drugs and illegally-brewed potions. Harry hadn’t even managed an <em>Expelliarmus</em> against the murderer before Draco was struck in the arm with the bright green sparkle of a hastily flung <em>Diffindo</em>. </p><p>The melee had been chaotic: Harry had lost sight of Draco as the duel had battled but their superior training had soon won out the day. It was only minutes later, when Harry was spelling a pair of unbreakable handcuffs onto Berger that he was able to shout for a report. He still thanked Merlin every single day for Ron’s quick reaction. Weasley had been beside Draco in moments, side-Apparating the pair of them straight to St Mungos with little more than minutes to spare before his partner’s blood loss would have been fatal. </p><p>Things between Draco and he had been different since the <em>Diffindo</em>. </p><p>Draco’s injury had been in a tricky spot, severing some of the nerves in the wizard’s upper arm and shoulder. The Healers had no problem re-growing those, and reforming the mangled, sliced muscles but Harry knew from experience that they’d be weak and soft. He knew from the many injuries that he’d caught in the field that new, magicked skin always was. </p><p>As a result, Harry had been keen for Draco to take a back seat for the following few missions, build up his athletic strength and only come back to front-line duties when he was truly ready. </p><p>Draco had disagreed. </p><p>“I’m not some wet-behind-the-ears, fresh-from-bloody-Hogwarts Initiate,” Draco had shouted not long after his release from hospital, shoving his coffee down hard onto the mahogany surface of his desk.</p><p>The scorching liquid had splashed over the top, spreading its way through the piles of parchments and reports that covered every inch of the wood but Draco hadn’t moved to spell them clean. </p><p>Instead, the wizard had shook his head and pointed at the duties roster. “Desk work! Extra mission training sessions! The Healer’s at St Mungos gave me a full go-ahead to move back to regular duties, Harry! No this nonsense that you’ve got me down for! I’m a Field Auror and if you don’t trust me any more then you need to <em>tell</em> me!”</p><p>Harry shook his head. “You must know that I trust you with my life,” Harry had replied. “You’re my partner. Have been since Robards landed me with you years ago. I just don’t want you getting hurt again, Draco. If that happens, it’ll be on me. Nobody else and I can’t have that. Your reaction times aren’t at regulation standards yet. You know full well there’s no place on the team if you can’t keep up.” </p><p>Their argument had been loud and uncomfortable, but in the end the two men had reached a compromise that both were happy with. Draco and he would slot in early morning training sessions before the day really began, which Harry would then organise and lead. After a few months of extra practice and training, Harry would then reassess Draco’s position on their team. </p><p>If the blond wizard was truly rehabilitated then he’d get his old place back. Draco accused Harry of coddling him and the Auror took that criticism on the chin. Unfortunately, it was criticism that was, all likelihood, true.</p><p>Harry would much rather have seen Draco trapped behind an office desk for the rest of his days than back inside a St Mungos hospital bed. Each morning, Harry had taken to Flooing to Malfoy Manor early, when the lush wide lawns were still wet with dew, with a flask of tea in hand. He’d pad up the stairs and then knock gently at Draco’s bedroom door. That first knock was meant as a warning – it was nothing like his aggressive pounding from their time at the Academy – and if Draco had wanted him to wait outside then Harry would have stayed there. </p><p>Most of the time though, Draco would still be asleep when he arrived, his blond hair spilling over the pillow and his eyes soft and closed. Harry would open Draco’s curtains and letting the streaming morning sunshine brighten the room before he spoke. </p><p>“Come on,” Harry would say, giving the other man’s shoulder a rub, “we’re doing our defensive response drills in a few minutes. Get yourself up and dressed, Draco. There’s your tea waiting for you downstairs.”</p><p>Draco nodded at that, not even really fully awake yet. “Earl Grey?” he yawned. “Just a splash of milk?”</p><p>“Same as everyday. Just how you like it.”</p><p>Draco would yawn then, sitting up and swinging his legs out of the bed before <em>Accio’ing</em> his tee-shirt and tracksuit bottoms. “Thank you,”  Draco would say, catching his clothes with a practised hand. “You know how to make these sessions at least semi-bearable.”</p><p>Harry never bothered to hide his grin as he left Draco to get dressed. </p><p>As far as he was concerned, these early morning sessions could carry on forever. </p><p>
  <strong>I was always in front of you </strong>
</p>
<h3>Four. </h3><p>
  <strong></strong></p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <strong>Drunk and in Draco’s bedroom. </strong>
  </p>
</div><p>Harry decided to get drunk on his birthday. Blind, stinking, ridiculously drunk. </p><p>It wasn’t even magical stuff that he had decided to drink. It was the bitter, potent Muggle booze that burnt his throat and sat in his belly like poison. Stuff that Arthur had gifted him over the year and then he had stuffed in his pantry and forgotten about. Getting drunk really hadn’t been the wisest decision that Harry had even made in his twenty-three years on the earth but then he supposed that falling in love hadn’t been a very wise decision either. </p><p>Falling in love was foolish really. <em>Cliche</em>. He had only realised the depth of his feelings at Draco’s own birthday celebration, scant months before and now his heart was shattered. </p><p>Draco –  overjoyed to be reinstated on front-line Auror duties after six months of rehabilitation – had decided to throw a great big birthday bash and invite the whole of their team. </p><p>No expense had been spared. There had been delicate champagne flutes carried by suited Elves, a luxurious chocolate with eight layers and a first-rate band for dancing. Harry had been having a great time until he had noticed a tall, brawny wizard hanging off Draco’s arm and recognised him immediately. It had been Kurt Eisner, the newest Beater for the Appleby Arrows and also, it would seem, Draco’s newest boyfriend. </p><p>Harry had felt his heart sink into his shoes as he felt the full extent of his feelings race through his body. Good Godric and all the bloody deities! He <em>loved</em> Draco, loved the very bones of the man. How could he not have seen this coming? How could he not have realised? He loved the man. He always had.</p><p>That was why he’d delayed letting Draco back onto the field for <em>months</em> after he was back to his regulation fitness. Harry had found excuse after sodding excuse to continue their morning training sessions. </p><p>Harry hadn’t known what he had with Draco until the day that he’d lost it. All evening Harry had watched Draco, watched his grey eyes sparkling and watched his wide, soft lips set in an animated smile while he talked with Eisner. </p><p>Jealousy had coursed through Harry’s blood and he’d walked out, abrupt and rude, without even bothering to say goodbye. </p><p>Now – months, and countless sleepless nights later – some demon hiding in the depths of Harry’s consciousness had decided that it was a great idea to jump into the Floo. He’d found himself in Malfoy Manor, drunk out of his mind at three in the morning, hammering and shouting into the wood of Draco’s bedroom door. </p><p>He knew how he must look. His hair was a dishevelled bird’s nest, he could hardly stand upright and he stank of tequila. Knowing his luck, Eisner would be behind the door, sharing Draco’s soft quilt and then Harry’s absolute humiliation would be complete. He’d have to transfer to MACUSA because he’d never dare show his face in Diagon Alley ever again. </p><p>Eisner wasn’t there, though. When Draco opened the door, his expression dark with fury and shock,  the wizard was mercifully alone.</p><p>“I thought the ruddy world was ending,” Draco hissed, opening the door wide. “You frightened the <em>life</em> out of me Potter! And you’re <em>pissed</em>,” he continued, standing back so Harry could enter. “You smell like you’ve rolled in a brewery drip tray.”</p><p>“Draco.” Harry managed, stepping forward into the room. Truthfully, he’d never imagined that his plan would work quite this well. Now that he was actually there, in Draco’s bedroom, he wasn’t sure what to say. The carpet seemed treacherously slippery and Harry found himself pitching forward in his inebriated state. Draco had to grapple with him to stop him falling forward like a broomstick caught in a storm. Luckily the other wizard took pity on him and led him to the edge of his bed, helping him to sit down with cautious hands. </p><p>“Draco,” Harry repeated feeling the sting of piteous, pathetic tears sting at the corner of his eyes. “I’m sorry… I-I shouldn’t have woken you. You used to call me a prat, back at school… Used to call me a thickhead. You were right, Draco. So bloody right. Oblivious <em>bloody</em> Potter, can’t see beyond the lenses of his stupid thick glasses!”</p><p>Draco sat down beside Harry, his face creased with concern. Some of the anger at being awoken so shockingly had left Draco and now all he looked was worried. He folded his pyjama-clad legs and bend his head show that he was listening.</p><p>“Well, I had quite a few opinions on various matters when I was a schoolboy,” Draco answered thoughtfully, “and I’m the first to admit that most of them have been proved quite categorically wrong. Tonight’s behaviour <em>has</em> erred rather a touch on the thickhead side though… On your birthday, of all days. Whatever has happened to bring this all on?”</p><p>“You didn’t come to my dinner,” Harry answered, the words sounding thick, idiotic and unwieldy in his throat. He hated how needy he sounded, how emotional. “Even though you said that you would. You said that you were looking forward to it. Ron <em>told</em> me, you know!… Told me that you had something on with Eisner tonight… Something that you couldn’t put off. You’re going to marry him, aren't you? Going to sod off back to Germany with him?” Harry rubbed his face with the heels of his hand. The words were spilling unbidden from his throat and his traitorous brain couldn’t hold them in. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so stupid.”</p><p>“You jolly well have been,” Draco replied, “and you’ll feel as rough as a bloody crup in the morning. Not that it’s any of your <em>actual</em> business Potter but no, I won’t be marrying Kurt. I certainly won’t be moving to Germany with him. The chap is an unmitigated arse.” Draco sighed and then he shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry I missed your dinner. It was unconscionably rude not to send an owl. The reason that I didn’t come to your party was that I had to meet with Kurt tonight and end things. That was what I told Weasley. I told him that I couldn’t put it off. Ron <em>told</em> me that he was going to explain it to you. It seems he failed.”</p><p>Harry’s stupid, inebriated state couldn’t quite take in everything that Draco was saying. All he knew what that Draco wasn’t leaving England. He wasn’t marrying Eisner and he wasn’t lost to Harry forever. Suddenly the worst and most drunken night of his twenties was starting to look a little brighter. </p><p>“I’ve been so stupid,” Harry repeated. “Everyday I wake up… Wake up and swear that I’m going to talk to you – and I never do, because I’m a damned bloody fool – and Eisner came along and I thought it was too late for us. Too bloody <em>late</em>.” He looked at Draco through blurred, watery eyes. “I’m supposed to be a Gryffindor. Supposed to be brave… But I’m not. I’m just stupid. I <em>love</em> you. Always have… Since we were Initiates. I should have spent all of my days loving you, Draco. I should have given you everything.”</p><p>To his absolute, utter surprise, Draco leant over and took his hand. </p><p>“This isn’t brave,” Draco said quietly. “This is drunk. You can’t just hammer on my door at Merlin <em>knows</em> what time,” he answered, looking down at their knotted fingers, “and start telling me how much you love me. It doesn’t work like that! It isn’t fair. I’m angry with you Harry! You don’t just get to – You don’t just get to just demand me, and have me fall at your feet!”</p><p>That was a good enough answer for Harry. Nothing in his life had ever come easily, or been straightforward and Harry shouldn’t have supposed his that arriving at Malfoy Manor in the middle of the night would have been either. </p><p>That was alright though. Harry could be patient. He could be brave. He’d told Draco that he loved him and Draco hadn’t said an outright ‘no.’</p><p>“You don’t have to fall at my feet,” Harry said, giving Draco’s fingers a small squeeze. “And I’m not demanding anything… Anything at all. I wouldn’t – couldn't – do that, because I love you. I’m in love with you, Draco.” Harry knew that he sounded ridiculous but he truly couldn’t bring himself to care. The words had been trapped inside of his soul for far too long, like a stoppered curse, but now they were free he found that he couldn’t rein them in. </p><p>He didn’t care. Draco had finished with Kurt, he wasn’t leaving England and he hadn’t said ‘no.’ This was a wonderful, spectacular turn of events. Harry gave Draco his most sincere, earnest smile. “Just tell me what I have to do to make you happy?”</p><p>Draco smiled. “You can let me sleep, Harry,” he answered. “Let me just sleep for once in my existence. That’d be a start. Much as I’m entirely charmed and seduced by your Lothario act, I’m not sure how much of it is actually <em>you</em> and how much is the tequila. Shall I get you into bed? And no, before you bloody ask, that isn’t some sort of sexy invitation. You need to sleep off your evening of fun.”</p><p>Harry responded with a nod. </p><p>Relief, alcohol and exhaustion had combined to make him woozy. Some far-off point in his consciousness knows that he’d be humiliated come the morning but that was tomorrow-Harry’s problem. He tried to stand but the floor was wobbly and his feet didn’t want to obey his brain. The room spun and swam, and Harry felt suddenly as if he were about to tumble from his broomstick. He sat back down, knowing full well that he would have fallen on the floor otherwise. Draco stood then and helped him to his feet, taking him by the elbow and making a slow and very stumbling way around to the side of the bed. </p><p>“Get under the sheets,” Draco insisted, his voice resigned. He vanished Harry’s trousers and shirt with a swirl of his wand. “Merlin, but you’re a wearying person, Harry James Potter. Your very first night waking up in my bed and I doubt very much if you’ll ever remember even a second of it.” </p><p>
  <strong>So wake up</strong><br/>
<strong>Your sleeping heart</strong><br/>
<strong>I know sometimes we'll be afraid</strong><br/>
<strong>But no more playing safe, my dear </strong>
</p>
<h3>Five. </h3><p>
  <strong></strong></p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <strong>First morning as an engaged couple. </strong>
  </p>
</div><p>Harry woke to the rays of the early morning sun painting the ceiling. Dust motes floated through the air, bobbing gently in the light. </p><p>The bed was absurdly comfortable and, for the first time in what seemed like aeons, there was nothing that he needed to get up for and no particular place that he needed to go. Today, Harry didn’t need to be anyone’s Saviour. He didn’t need to be a loyal friend, a brave Head Auror or any of the other fine epitaphs that <em>The Prophet</em> were so fond of placing at his feet. </p><p>Today, he could simply <em>be</em>. It was an elating thought.</p><p>Today, all he needed to be was Harry Potter, twenty-something wizard, waking up to the sight of his fiancé. He couldn’t help but grin at the sound of the word. <em>Fiancé</em>. Harry whispered it half-silently into his pillow, playing with the sound of it. He liked the solidity of the word and the commitment that it implied. </p><p>He’d spend so many years untethered but now he had someone to come home to. Draco Malfoy – his <em>fiancé</em> – lay asleep beside him. On his left hand rested a goblin-gold ring and Harry’s hand wore one to match. He lifted it up, admiring how it glinted in the morning sunshine. Later, he knew Draco and he would share their exciting news with all of their friends but right now, not a single one of those witches or wizards mattered a single Sickle.</p><p>For Harry, Draco and he could have been only two people on the face of the earth and right at that moment he wouldn’t have cared. </p><p>Draco was there beside him, lain on their crumpled sheets like a deity or prince. Harry smiled affectionately at the sight of his fiancé's face, half-buried in the pillow case. Nobody slept as soundly or as deeply as his beloved. A rampaging herd of Hippogriffs wouldn’t have woken him. His blond hair was sleep rumpled but still so touchable. It spread across the Egyptian cotton like a silken halo. </p><p>The sheets had slipped from Draco’s body at some point during the night and Harry could see the lithe lines of his lover’s back. Harry traced a hesitant, gentle finger down across each jutting rib and over the small swell of Draco’s bottom. His husband-to-be was simply the most beautiful thing that Harry imagined he’d ever see, and he sent Merlin a brief prayer of thanks, knowing he was privileged to see Draco like this. </p><p>Harry still couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Draco was his fiancé. His betrothed. There’d never been anyone else for him, not really. He’d been enthralled with the man ever since he was young. Everything in his life always came back to Draco. </p><p>His darling looked breathtaking beside him; gorgeous and far too delectable. </p><p>Slowly, and as carefully as he could manage, Harry got himself up into a sitting position and leant over his lover. He felt the familiar glow of attraction coiling in his belly. He knew that he’d never tire of the sight before his eyes. Then he let his mouth descend, pressing his lips flat against the welcoming flesh of Draco’s shoulder. He’d had so many good intentions that morning to just let Draco sleep but – as usual – they’d all come to naught. </p><p>Harry could resist everything except temptation and Draco was the most tempting thing of all. </p><p>Draco’s skin tasted brilliant under Harry’s lips. There was a slight hint of musk and salt on his skin from their lovemaking the previous night and then Harry simply couldn’t hold back. He licked, nibbed and kissed everywhere he could, rousing Draco from whatever sweet dreams the man had been enjoying. Harry finally kissed into the crook of Draco’s neck, noisily enough to wake his fiancé from his slumbers. </p><p>“Merlin’s <em>heart</em>,” Draco muttered, his words half-smothered by the pillow. “You’re insatiable.” He wrinkled his nose and tried to burrow down into the sheets, keeping his eyes locked tightly shut, still pretending to sleep though his face was smiling broadly. “Must you always wake me? Do you never sleep?”</p><p>“How can I?” Harry answered, not put off by Draco’s lazy morning attitude. He continued to pepper kisses down the side of Draco’s arm. “It’s impossible to sleep. I’m in love,” he continued, “and it’s a beautiful day.”</p><p>Draco grinned into his pillow. “You’re irrepressible. An utter <em>fiend</em>. Mother did warn me.”</p><p>With his words, Draco turned around so that he was laying on his back. Harry slid in close, pressing his body against his beloved’s own. He let his hand wander downwards to caress Draco’s thigh and bottom. Draco’s breathing changed at that. His regular, pretend-sleep turned into something more subtle, more low and breathy. There was a catch to it, a tiny tell that Harry adored, knowing that it meant that Draco was getting excited by his touches. That thought of Draco’s arousal made his prick harden and his heart burst with pride. He lets his hand move upwards to ghost over Draco’s narrow waist and over one hard, pebbled nipple. “Irrepressible only for you,” Harry agreed fondly. “Gods, can you blame me? You’re the sexiest man in London.”</p><p>“Just London?” Draco queried, his voice a low rumble that was still laced with sleep. He let out a tiny, happy moan as Harry began to squeeze his nipple. “Think you can do better than that, Potter.”</p><p>“The whole world then,” Harry agreed, kissing a line over Draco’s throat just below his earlobe. “The whole entire universe. The galaxy, the Moon and all the stars.” The next moment Harry had grabbed his fiancé's shoulder and had flipped him onto his back –  eliciting an excited, startled yelp from Draco – and then he had settled above him, his thighs pushing the other man’s legs apart. </p><p>Then two of them shared an impassioned kiss, with Harry telling Draco of the depth of his love with his every breath. Both of their bodies were a single line of heat, from the roots of their hair to the very tips of their toes. There was an intent in Harry’s kiss, a promise of love, and of passion and of dedication. </p><p>Harry wanted Draco realise how entirely he was adored. Draco kissed back with the same fiery love that it was given, his lips making promises that only his body would complete upon. Harry felt Draco’s hand snake around his neck, puling him ever closer. </p><p>Perhaps, Harry thought, as he felt himself melt into their kisses, the two of them ought to make more of a habit of sleeping in. Harry didn’t think he’d have any problem getting used to it. </p><p>Mornings like this he could enjoy forever. </p><p>
  <strong>You've been deep in a coma</strong><br/>
<strong>But I stood right here</strong><br/>
<strong>When you thought there was no one</strong><br/>
<strong>I was still right here</strong><br/>
<strong>You were scared, but I told ya</strong><br/>
<strong>Open up your eyes</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I was always in front of you</strong>
</p>
<h3>+ One.</h3><p>
  <strong></strong></p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <strong>Jamie Potter-Malfoy.</strong>
  </p>
</div><p>Harry had always been a light sleeper but for the first time in his life he was starting why it might be beneficial. </p><p>In the two months since Jamie was born Harry had found waking at even the slightest noise has been instinctual. Perhaps that was what happened when you became a parent? Something kicked in, some pure, inescapable love. Jamie was a small part of Harry’s soul that had taken form to become real. Jamie was his beating heart that had escaped from his body. </p><p>Harry wished, not for the first time that he could have spoken to his Mum and Dad; asked for their advice and the benefit of their experience. Had they felt this deep, all-enveloping emotion too? This wild, feral love? His Mum and Dad had lain down their lives for him, so Harry supposed that they must have. Harry had felt their loss keenly since his and Draco’s child had arrived in the world. He only wished that he could have met Jamie, seen his greeny-grey baby eyes, seen the stubborn Potter hair that already covered his head and breathed in his delicious baby scent. James and Lily would  have loved his and Draco’s baby so, so much. Harry knew that. </p><p>Yawning, Harry cast a discrete <em>Tempus</em> spell. It was just past three am which didn’t surprise him in the least. For the past three weeks Jamie had been waking at his exact time, a combination of loneliness, hunger and the need for a cuddle driving their baby from his sleep. </p><p>With a quick swipe of his wand, Harry silenced the monitoring spell. At the moment Jamie wasn’t crying yet and all that Harry could hear were muffled whimpers. That wouldn’t take long to change into sorrowful sobbing though. Their little one could become quite inconsolable in very little time and Harry didn’t want him to wake Draco. </p><p>His husband was still asleep, his soft snoring a sign of how deeply he was snoozing. Draco deserved to sleep. He had been looking after Jamie almost full time for the last week or so while Harry had been busy chasing down a cunning gang  of dragon-egg smugglers. He was fully aware that he had got the easier end of the deal: looking after Jamie was far harder work than bringing even the most hardened of criminals to justice and Draco deserved his rest. </p><p>Luckily, part of being a fully trained Head Auror meant that he was able to move stealthily. </p><p>Harry slipped out of the bed and made for Jamie’s adjoining room as carefully as he could, avoiding the creaky floorboards and the squeaky hinges that he knew he should have already gotten fixed. It wasn’t any kind of trouble, getting up to Jamie: in fact, Harry didn’t mind the midnight get-ups at all. These were their special times, and Harry treasured these moments with his baby. </p><p>Their little one’s bottle was already waiting, spelled to stay fresh and at the right temperature with a clever little stasis spell. Harry picked it up from Draco’s dressing table before walking into their nursery alongside his wand. </p><p>Jamie was already crying by the time that Harry strode quickly to his side. He lit his wand with a muted <em>Lumos</em> and placed it in the corner of the room. “What’s the matter, baby?” Harry whispered, picking the small, wriggly weight of his son out of the cot. “Everything is okay, little love. You know that you’re safe,” he cooed, gently. “You know that your other Daddy and I wouldn’t ever let anything bad happen.” It wasn’t as if Jamie could understand Harry’s word but their rumbling, murmured sounds were enough and they soon began to calm the fretful baby. </p><p>Harry held Jamie in his arms and sat down in the antique rocking chair that Narcissa had placed there for exactly that purpose. He held his son close to his chest and let him be comforted by his heartbeat. </p><p>“That’s it,” Harry said, quiet as a charm, “please don’t cry. Your other Daddy needs to sleep. You know how grumpy he gets if he doesn’t get enough.” Harry smiled. In all their years of knowing – knowing and now loving – each other, Draco hadn’t changed a whit in that department. He could still fall asleep at the drop of a hat, complaining mightily whenever Harry had to wake him. “Let’s let him sleep, Jamie love.”</p><p>Harry knew that he was the very definition of a proud Dad. </p><p>Ron and Hermione called him a perfect Mother Hen but Harry couldn’t care less about their teasing. He was entirely convinced that there hadn’t ever been such a perfect baby was Jamie Potter-Malfoy in the whole of wizarding (or even human) history. </p><p>As he looked down at Jamie in the wandlight, he was struck once more at his son’s resemblance to Draco. The shape of his face was all his husband’s, and that nose was unmistakably his as well. Draco swore he was talking a great pile of emotive Gryffindor nonsense. "Parents always think that babies look like their partners,” Draco would smile. “It’s genetics. Makes you bond with them quicker. Besides that little wizard is all <em>you</em>: same eyes, same untameable hair. There’s not a witch or wizard in London that won’t know who sired him.”</p><p>A quick check of Jamie’s nappy proved he was still dry and cosy so that wasn’t the cause of his unhappiness. He wasn’t hot and his clothes weren't ruckled. Harry pressed a kiss onto Jamie’s silky curls and the two of them cuddled for a minute but Jamie was still grouchy. </p><p>“You’re hungry,” Harry decided, picking up the bottle and teasing his son’s lips with it. Luckily Jamie wasn’t a fussy feeder and he was soon suckling happily, his eyes drifting closed and his cheeks hollowing as he fed. “Clever baby,” Harry murmured, stroking the side of his baby’s face lightly, “drink every drop. You know exactly what to do.”</p><p>Jamie soon settled. All of the distress left his tiny body and his fidgety jolts and wriggling soon ceased. He must have been very hungry because the bottle soon began to empty. </p><p>“What’s this?” came a sleep-thick voice from the doorway. Draco was stood there, rubbing his eyes. He leant against the wood frame in his crumpled pyjamas. Harry didn’t think that his husband had ever looked better than he did, right there and then, his grey eyes flicking onto Jamie’s small swaddled form. Their baby was suckling more slowly now and had almost fallen back to sleep. “Is everything alright?”</p><p>“Everything is great,” Harry whispered as soon as Draco padded close enough for him to hear. “I’m sorry that I woke you,” he apologised, popping the bottle out of Jamie’s mouth. “I wanted to let you rest.”</p><p>Draco lay a hand on Harry’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. </p><p>“You didn’t wake me,” Draco answered. “I woke myself. I think that I sensed that you were missing. Our bed felt empty without you… Felt too cold. And then I noticed that you’d broken the monitoring spell. You should have got me up,” Draco chastised. “You’ve got work in the morning. I haven’t. You need your slumber.” He held out his arms for their little one. “Pass him over.”</p><p>Harry did, and watched as Draco cautiously laid their little one back in his cot, being extra careful not to wake him. He snuffled for a moment, missing the warmth of Harry’s arms but then Jamie finally succumbed, his cherub lips still sucking as he fed in his dreams. “Let’s go back to bed,” Draco murmured. “Morning will come soon enough.”</p><p><em>Nox’ing</em> his wand, Harry took hold of Draco’s hand and the two of them walked back to their bedroom. He re-magicked the monitoring spell just as Draco pulled the quilt over the pair of them. “Love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes and Harry was sure that his husband was fast off even before his head hit the pillow. </p><p>Harry lay down, rolling over so his body faced his darling. Sleep was already overtaking him, and Draco’s soft lemony scent enveloped his senses as he let his eyes shutter closed. </p><p>Draco and Jamie were everything he had ever wanted, the happy ending that a little boy locked in the cupboard below the stairs wouldn’t have dared to believe was possible. Both of them were sleeping safely and that thought made Harry’s heart feel full. </p><p>His life was happier than he could ever have imagined.  </p><p>~~ The End ~~</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading. XXXXXX</p></blockquote></div></div>
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